no holy place
by CreativeTruthTelling
Summary: a love story inspired by fragments of Sappho. everything is connected.
1. Innocent Enough

The first time she felt the fluttering in her stomach, Hermione thought she was coming down with a cold. Abhorring the thought of being sick so close to final exams, she promptly made a visit to Madam Pomfrey's office. Who looked at her. And looked. And peered down her nose in a way that implied sympathy but conveyed pity after Hermione described the feeling in her gut.

"Miss Granger, what you've just described is no ailment at all" Pomfrey stated in a slow, methodical tone, "although some might disagree, I think it's a wonderful thing."

Hermione wrinkled her brow at this. "What do you mean some might disagree Madam Pomfrey? Is there contention in the wizarding medical community?" Hermione asked in a serious, somewhat hushed voice.

Pomfrey allowed a small smile to crack her face a bit, and replied "Not within the medical community, within the world itself—what you have, dear girl, is a "crush". You fancy someone, plain and simple."

The gradient of Hermione's face as she registered these words went from pale white to tomato red in under five seconds. "Oh" she said in a small voice, "a crush". Gathering her things at lightning speed, Hermione rushed to thank Madam Pomfrey for her time and tossed out the obvious lie that she was running late for class. Madam Pomfrey watched as the young girl, brightest witch of her age, scurried out of her office with the new-found knowledge that she was, indeed, a human being with human wants and desires. Hermione, on the other hand, spared no glance behind her. As rushed away, she caught a glimpse of wild black tangles and a billowing cloak before getting a much closer view as she crashed headlong into the figure.

"My, my," said the first which to gain her composure, which happened to be Professor Bellatrix Black, "I should take five points from Gryffindor for such reckless meandering." The dark haired which said this in a bemused tone, even as she dusted herself off from the tumble Hermione had sent her into.

Hermione was about to deliver a retort of her own before recognizing the voice of the figure she crashed in to. Suddenly, all of her Gryffindor courage seemed to vanish and she stared, dumbstruck, as Bellatrix Black rose to her full height and considered the brightest witch of her age. Noticing the direction that the younger witch was apparently coming from, Bellatrix asked, not unkindly, "Are you unwell?"

Finally finding her voice, Hermione answered quickly and somewhat unsteady "Ah, yes I— I was just, there was, um, a problem…a question that I—but, of course, yes, I'm alright. And yourself, professor?" Hermione tried to regain her composure by the hasty addition of the question in what she hoped was a nonchalant attitude.

Professor Black considered the witch once more, this time a little more carefully. Her brow furrowed and she titled her head to the left slightly as she looked, and Hermione could not help but notice that the staircases rearranging themselves had brought a window directly above them, streaming light onto the witches below. _She looks like an angel_ , Hermione thought to herself as she stood, hyper aware that she was being analyzed by the witch in front of her.

"Good," she said at length, nodding towards the direction Hermione had been heading before the crash, "on your way now."

Unaware that the older witch was an experienced legilmens, Hermione rushed off without further embarrassment. Bellatrix Black remained a moment longer in the hall, a befuddled expression on her face and the beginning of a smile on her lips.

Hermione takes a deeper breath than she should in the densely packed Platform 9 3/4. Immediately she has to suppress her gag reflex as she takes in, along with the air, the mingling sweat and odor of the expecting parties waiting for the children to exit the Hogwarts Express. Before she has fully recovered, however, she is once again short of breath as she finds herself enveloped in a pleasantly too-snug embrace. Though she did not see the person currently wrapped around her coming, she should have known to expect this.

"Mrs. Tonks," Hermione says politely into the mass of curls obstructing her view of the outside world, "it is so nice to see you". Though she spoke quietly, and her words were somewhat muffled by the aforementioned curls, Hermione knows she heard her as Andromeda lifts her head and gently reminds,

"Andromeda, dearest, we're past honorifics."

Hermione nods against Andromeda's shoulder. She is always so shy after she gets back from school, Andromeda thinks. Hermione continues to revel in the feeling of safety and the scent of vanilla that always seems to follow the older witch for a moment longer. Then, disentangling, Andromeda gives Hermione a once-over and comments, "You look a bit thin, let's fix that right up, hm?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure I've actually gained a bit of weight with how the school's elves are always bringing me snacks and such" replies Hermione, bashfully.

"Well, then, a light lunch and a steady stream of snacks before dinner tonight won't dent your appetite, then" Andromeda says with a tone of finality as she leads Hermione away from the platform and towards the Tonks residence.

They don't apparate straight there. Andromeda, with her arm linked around Hermione's, weaves them through magical and muggle neighborhoods in companionable silence. This was a routine with them. Andromeda knew Hermione always walked with a purpose, a destination in mind, so she took it upon herself to show the younger witch the joys of the unexpected, unplanned. On their walk they frequently backtracked upon coming to dead-ends, wrongs ways and seedy areas, but they enjoyed the sights and sounds nonetheless. Eventually, in a small magical community just north of London, Andromeda senses Hermione finally begin to relax into the summer evening. When the tension left Hermione's shoulders and her jaw slowly unclenches,, Andromeda grabbed her hand and squeezed in warning before apparating home.

The Tonks' home was an almost modest tudor-style house. The ground floor was laid with brick in an elaborate series of perfectly geometric stars, while the second floor was all stucco with wood trim. The steep cross-gable roof rose stubbornly into the sky, making the house the tallest by far on the block. The first time Hermione had approached this house, she turned to Andromeda wordlessly, an eyebrow raised at the glaring display of perceived superiority. Andromeda had the decency to blush before explaining,

"Teddy likes to work with his hands—he insisted that our first real home together should be as beautiful as the family we'd raise in it"

Hermione smiled at the memory. How many times had she seen the sweet glances between Ted and Andromeda? Countless, by now—and yet, the easy love between the two never failed to stir a genuine warmth within her, and sometimes a pang of envy.

Andromeda, with that uncanny ability of hers, sensed the change in Hermione's thoughts and brought her back to the present with a tug on her hand toward the house. Grateful, Hermione followed, hand in hand, to the door. Inside the witches were treated to a chorus of hellos and one solitary "wotcher", the latter rising above the rest as it came from the top of the staircase in the foyer.

Nymphodora Tonks—Tonks, if you knew what was good for you—clambered down the stairs and enveloped the witches in a messy, awkward hug. She let them go after swaying with them for a moment, then turned to her mother and reported, "Dad's set the kitchen on fire twice, and frozen it once."

"Lovely, I'll go save the pudding from its imminent destruction" replied the eldest witch.

From the kitchen, a voice yelled back "It's called _de-_ construction! It adds a rustic charm!"

Andromeda rolled her eyes and exited the foyer to the left, in the direction of the insistent voice. Tonks and Hermione watched her leave, and the second she was out of earshot Tonks grabbed Hermione's arm and whispered

"Ok, spill your guts."

Trying to keep a cool exterior, Hermione replied "No, thanks, my guts are quiet fine where they are, thank you very much."

Undeterred, Tonks pulled on Hermione's arm to get her up the stairs and to the room they shared every summer. On the landing, they pass by Ofie, one of the two house elves employed by the Tonks. The sight of Ofie's new outifit, a red and gold striped tunic, made Hermione smile at him in passing. Before, when Hermione was still getting used the Tonks' residence, the sight of the house elves used to make her outraged and uneasy. It was Ted who had finally broached the topic with her over breakfast.

 _In the breakfast nook of the large kitchen sat Hermione and Ted. Ted appeared to be engrossed in one of the many newspapers around him. On the table, discarded to the right of his coffee mug, was the Quibbler. To the left, still untouched was The Daily Prophet as well as a new publication, The Morning Star. Hermione listlessly played with the oatmeal on her plate. Andromeda and Tonks were late risers, leaving Ted and Hermione to their quiet, slightly uncomfortable mornings._

 _Unexpectedly, Ted cleared his throat, startling Hermione out of her listless state._

" _That oatmeal is cruelty-free, you know" He said, not looking away from the paper in his hands._

 _Not understanding, Hermione simply looked at him and waited for him to continue. Ted methodically refolded the paper along its original creases and added it to the pile on his right. Then, he set his eyes on Hermione and said,_

" _I know you haven't been with us long but Hermione, if you have concerns you should approach us with them. And you should also know that we would never condone slave labor. Ofie and Auxley have been with us since before Nymphodora was born. Never against their will, and always with the dignity and respect any living creature deserves"._

 _Regaining her composure somewhat, Hermione meets Ted's stare and asks "Do you pay them well?"_

" _Well above the minimum wage in both the muggle and magical community. As well as paid leave, vacation, and sick days" Ted answers easily and evenly, no judgement or reproach in his voice._

" _They are valued members of this household," Ted continues, "and you're still a bit new here, but I'm sure in time you'll see Ofie and Auxley are incredibly opinionated and will not hesitate to tell you if you're on the wrong side of the debate."_

 _Hermione leaned back into her chair. Unconsciously, while Ted had been speaking, her body had gone rigid as she was preparing to launch into a speech on the rights of all magical creatures. Now that Ted had expressed nearly identical views as hers, she relaxed and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding._

" _So," Hermione said carefully, "What load of ministry propaganda is the Quibbler trying to pass off as journalism this week?"_

 _Ted grinned and handed the paper he had put down only moments before. "See for yourself" he said, handing Hermione the paper. He then picked up The Daily Prophet from his left-hand pile and unfolded the front page._

 _And that was how Tonks and Andromeda found them when they finally wandered down at a quarter to eleven. The sat across from each other, both engrossed in their respective newspapers and unconsciously mirroring each other's narrow, pinched facial expression as they concentrated on what they were reading._

Ofie interrupted Hermione's train of that with his passing greeting and added, as an afterthought, "Auxley has been looking forward to debate the dragon issue with you again, Miss."

Hermione grinned, "I expect nothing else."

Turning to the left towards the east wing of the house, Tonks led Hermione toward the room at the end of the hall. Once inside, Tonks closed the door and cast a wordless _colloportus_ , the _click!_ of the locks sliding into place the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Spinning on her heel, Tonks crossed her arms and looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione pretended to look torn for a moment, before sighing dramatically and relenting, "Oh okay, okay, but first—" She took out her wand and cast a _muffliato_. Tonks rolled her eyes good-naturedly and joked,

"Honestly 'Mione, you really ought to practice without the crutches."

Hermione bit back, "Would you rather we discuss the finer points of using a combination of wands and language to create magic versus raw magic or—"

"All right all right no need to make threats! Please, if you could so kindly humor me and spill your blasted guts!" Tonks huffed out, her nose morphing about three times in the space of her outburst.

Taking pity on the girl she considered family, Hermione acquiesced, "So, I take it you recall the letter I sent you after the one where I complained of feeling ill," Tonks looked as if she were about to interject, but at Hermione's glare held her tongue "and the following letter in which the…nature…of the cause of my feeling ill-at-ease was revealed..."

Unable to hold out a retort, Tonks piped, "Goodness you really know how to beat around the bush! What his bloody name already!?"

"Patience, child," and to make the suspense even worse for the easily excitable witch, Hermione added a correction, "and its _her_ name, mind you."

Tonks appeared to lose her steam for a moment, and for a split second Hermione thought, perhaps Tonks held some prejudice or felt uncomfortable—but no, in another second there were tears springing from her eyes and and arms wrapped around her middle and Hermione wondered how she could ever doubt her closest friend in the world.

"Mione you have no idea how happy you've just made me!" Thinking perhaps she misunderstood, Hermione started to speak but was quickly cut off by Tonks joyful admission, "Dad owes mum and I 20 galleons each!". Hermione sputtered at this, not fully comprehending the implication behind the words. A few moments later, her brain caught up to her and she shot up, out of Tonks' embrace and demanded to know how they knew, when they knew, and why in the world didn't they say anything?

"It's not a big deal, really, we had the bet going in good fun about when you'd finally come out with already, honest. We knew since that festival in the Hallows with the veelas two winter solstices ago," Hermione blushed at the memory, her one reprieve from that embarrassing moment was that no one else had seen how she had reacted to the ensnaring spectacle, "and then there was the absolute obliviousness with that Weasley boy." this Hermione had no recollection of, "We didn't say anything because we wanted you to come to us, but after last year we figured we might as well make it interesting."

"I see" Hermione said slowly, considering her next words carefully, "and so, your parents—"

"—just as much yours as they are mine, I'd reckon—"

"—don't mind?"

"Merlin Hermione they bloody love you! I'm pretty sure they prefer you to me, to be honest."

Hermione smiled and allowed the words to sink in; then, her curious nature prompted her to ask, "So what where the parameters of the bet, anyhow?"

"Well," Tonks began, a bit sheepishly, "Dad thought it would take you at least another year until you told us, whilst mum and I thought that this would be the year."

"What's so special about this year?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"You've just finished your fourth year, which means you're about to be 16, which is when we fall in love, statistically speaking," Tonks explained as if it were a well-known fact.

"Care to enlighten me on where these statistics came from?"

"Us!"

At Hermione's puzzled face, Tonks continued "Mum met dad when she was 16, and I met Remus the week after I turned 16!"

"Two coincidences hardly account to the soundness of a rule of thumb; besides, your mum hated your dad on site—and you didn't even have a proper conversation with Lupin until you were 18" Hermione concluded with an air of finality.

"Love is love, even if we can't recognize it as such in the moment." was Tonk's only rejoinder as she leaned back on the headboard of her bed, looking at Hermione expectantly, "Now I believe all your clever retorts have derailed the ritual spilling of guts long enough—on with it!"

Hermione allowed a small grin to cross her face before schooling her features into one of serious concentration and whispering conspiratorially, "Ok, since there was quite the age gap between you and Lupin when you met, you don't get to judge this age difference—"

"Oooh an _older_ woman! 'Mione you little minx!"

Hermione blushed a blooming, deep rose and soldiered on with her confession as the butterflies came back with a vengeance at the mere thought of the subject of her infatuation "She's, erm, well, we've had some encounters," Hermione looked up from her lap as she let the words rush out and regretted her choice of words as she registered the devious look on Tonk's face, "Nothing like what you're thinking! It's all been completely respectable instances of being in the same place at the same time and we have conversations about things I didn't even know we had in common like—like she reads muggle poetry! And, well, it's hard to put into words really, but she's on my wavelength."

"You lost me there, Hermione," Hermione cursed silently, remembering that the magical community had very limited vocabulary when it came to physics and muggle theories.

"Well, let me put it this way—remember those block thingies with the antennas I showed you last summer?"

"The one that trapped your voice, I remember."

"We've been over this; my voice was not 'trapped', it simply traveled, because sound is a wave, and because I spoke into the receiver, which transported the audio to the machine in your hands, playing it at the same time—we don't have to get into the details right now," Tonks looked incredibly relieved to hear that, "the important thing is the connection. How you were even able to hear me from the distance between us—it has to do with frequency. Both of the machines had the same frequency—which means the wavelengths matched up, allowing for the line of communication."

Tonks looked up to the ceiling as she processed this, then looked back at Hermione as said, "So you've got a connection."

"Yes—I mean, I think so…I don't hear her voice in my head or anything, but I always seem to know when she's about to walk in to a room or if the room is full of people, I know exactly which direction to turn to in order to see her," Hermione said this in a rush, excited to finally have someone to share this discovery with.

"This girl got a name?"

"She's…well she's a professor."

Tonks jerked to attention at this; "Merlin Hermione is this a joke?" At Hermione's perplexed and slightly hurt expression, she added more gently, "I only mean, that's a serious problem, if anything were to happen…when you said she was older I thought maybe a seventh year…"

"Oh I know the rules Tonks, don't think they haven't kept me awake at night" Hermione jumped to the wrong end of the other witch's concerns.

"No, I meant emotionally—fancying someone in a position of authority is tricky business" Tonks replied, unusually serious and, in Hermione's mind, a tad overdramatic.

"Oh," Hermione replied, feeling a bit silly, "I'm sure I'll be fine. In a way I think this is actually good for me; my first taste of strong romantic attraction, and the subject is someone unattainable and therefore safe—what could go wrong?"

Tonks looked at her with a fleeting expression of something she couldn't quiet trace; it was gone from her face in an instant, as well as her previous nose. She now sported an adorable button-nose, which she wrinkled and wriggled for a moment before asking, again, "Name?"

"Bellatrix Black."


	2. Identity Crisis

Before Tonks has a chance to react, a knock on the door startles the witches. Tonks blinks once, and then again and again in rapid succession before another series of knocks sounds at the door. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she gets up and unlocks the door. Andromeda bustles in, looking for the nearest flat surface to set a tray of cucumber sandwiches on.

Noting the stunned silence that has taken over the atmosphere of the room since Hermione's confession, she asks, "Everything all right loves?" Andromeda looks between Hermione and Tonks as she asks this, noting how Hermione's lips lift at the edges when she says "loves". Such a shy girl, she thinks, not for the first time today.

It's Tonks who reacts first, flashing her easy smile and confidently stating, "Dad owes us 20 galleons". Hermione blushes at the warm looks directed her way from the two older witches.

"Let's collect over dinner in an hour, shall we?" Andromeda winks at Tonks, and then redirects her gaze to Hermione who appears to be concentrating very hard on her shoes.

"I'm glad to have your trust, Hermione" Before Hermione has a chance to argue that she's always had it, that she's had it since she took her in and gave her a home, Andromeda continues, "It's one thing to share parts of yourself for survival, but another thing entirely when you share because you feel at ease."

Hermione manages a tight nod, a wad of emotion already lodged in her throat, preventing speech. Andromeda fusses over a mess in a corner of the room ("Mum, that's an _organized_ pile of laundry") before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Tonks stands in the middle of the room, looking at Hermione's prone position on her queen-sized bed. She looks carefully at the younger witch, who is still struggling with the emotion stuck in her throat. Tonks walks over to her slowly, giving her enough time to recover her poise before joining her on the bed and asking in a voice as gentle as she can manage,

" 'Mione, how much do you know about the Black family?" she asked, partly to buy time until she figured out what to say and partly to give the younger witch an opportunity to show off her impressive memory—an opportunity that never failed to cheer her up. Predictably, it worked.

"Well," Hermione began, back straightening, "I know that they're purebloods, originating from the modern-day Dalmatian Coast in the 1300s, when the first public record of Xercophus Blake lists him and his family as passengers on a ship headed for the New World. They got turned around and ended up in England instead, where they took advantage of political instability to gain power and influence, not to mention land. It was actually the estate that motivated Xercophus to change the family name from Blake to Black—apparently, everything that grows on those grounds, grows black. Perfect for a brooding, melodramatic eastern European."

Hermione looked pleased at the opportunity to share this knowledge, but when she looked over at Tonks she noticed the older witch didn't look surprised or intrigued.

"Sorry, am I boring you?" Hermione asked, somewhat hurt.

"Hm? No, no, not at all, it's just that I meant more in terms of the present-day Black family," Tonks glanced at Hermione and smiled, hoping this would encourage the girl to keep talking. She was stalling; she knew what she had to say, but she just couldn't bear the thought of hurting the younger witch.

"Ah, well.. I know that Professor Black has sisters…" Tonks tensed at this "but I don't know who they are. I don't think they're on speaking terms."

"Well, you're right about that last part" Tonks said, straightening up her posture on the bed and turning to face Hermione, "So, I'm going to tell you something that might make you reconsider your little crush."

Hermione looked as if she were about to protest this; Tonks knew she only had a few moments before Hermione launched into a long-winded tirade, so she quickly spit out, "Bellatrix Black is my aunt."

This quieted the argumentative young witch for a moment, and Tonks took advantage of her stunned silence to continue, "She and my mum used to get confused for twins all the time, I wonder how you didn't make the connection," Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, "and I know what you'd ask if you were in your right mind, 'but dear infallible Tonks, do you have any proof?' Why, yes, I do, little 'Mione" Tonks got up from the bed, patting Hermione's leg as she made her way to the closet—and, because she's Tonks, couldn't resist saying, "Well it certainly has freed up some space now that you're not hiding in here anymore."

Predictably, a volley of pillows came hurtling in her direction. Hermione exhausted her arsenal quickly, but Tonks still worked quickly to dig up what she was looking for. She didn't want Hermione to think of a way to get back at her, after all. After a moment of rummaging, accompanied by a healthy amount of muttered curses, Tonks evidently found it; "it" being a dusty brown box, bent out of shape due to the weight of the contents. She hurried over to the bed and dumped all its contents in Hermione's lap.

"Ow! Merlin Tonks a little warning next time!"

"That's the proof right there—the truth hurts, ay 'Mione?"

"This is just a bunch of old photographs and letters—"

"Yes—proof. Just look through them and you'll see" Tonks said in her usual self-assured manner. An annoyed look came over her face and her button nose morphed into an aquiline one; she added "I need to go check on how dinner's going; either I'll walk in on my parents doing it in the kitchen again, or the kitchen will be on fire, again".

Hermione, who had slowly been sorting through the mess around her, looked up and said in a bemused voice, "My hero."

Either not hearing the humor in Hermione's voice or choosing to ignore it, Tonks nodded briskly, squared her shoulders and headed toward the door. Before she shut it behind her, Tonks leaned against the wooden frame, "I know this is a lot to take in, but I'll be downstairs if you need me. Just holler "Dear Infallible Tonks, protector of all helpless witches and wizards, come and help me! Right?"

Hermione snorted but nevertheless answered in the affirmative, and a second later Hermione heard the door click shut. Left alone at last, she sighed and looked at the two piles she had made. One was a pile of yellowing, moving photographs; the other, a stack of heavily creased letters. Hermione looked at the two piles and decided to start with the photographs—a mixture of curiosity and impatience, she wanted to know as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. She scanned each flimsy photo with her eyes carefully. A snapshot of three figures in motion—girls—soaring on broomsticks. It was taken from too far away to get a view of anyone's face. There was a hulking structure of stone in the background, alpine trees lining up in the distance. Hermione noted the odd environment; it didn't look like the English countryside. The next photo gave her pause—a close-up of two girls, arms slung around each other and heads tilted toward each other in camaraderie or mischief or both. The portrait was a loop of them walking towards the camera from the waist up. The girls looked identical, but the closer Hermione looked the more she noticed—or, perhaps, finally acknowledged. The girl on the left had a few rays of light caught in her hair, highlighting the earthy brown tones in it. The curve of the brow-line and the dimples around her cheeks gave her away. Andromeda. She looked to be about 16 or 17. She looked happy, but there was a glimmer of anxiousness in her eyes even as the figure in the endless loop tipped her head back to laugh at something the girl on her right whispered to her. The girl on the right was positively radiant, even in the shadows of the shoddy composition. Her hair was darker than Andromeda's, a bit more wild and untamed in its curls. A sharp jawline, decisive cheekbones. The rosey color of youth somewhat softened what would later grow into an angular jungle of charming lines. It was unmistakable, it was _her_. Hermione reflexively covered her mouth with her hands as she looked into the eyes of a young Bellatrix Black. The longer she stared into those wild, penetrating eyes, the more she had trouble keeping _that_ specific memory from resurfacing.

—

"The problem" she said, in a low, husky voice, "is that you want me to love you like the ocean," she was circling closer and closer toward her "and pull you down with me," closer still "but you can't swim," so close, "and you are afraid to drown." The last part she puffed near the younger witch's ear—she was behind her now, less than a centimeter apart, and her arms hovered dangerously around Hermione's body. Slowly, surely her right arm rose until it was wrapped around her throat. This touch, however light, revived Hermione's voice—a whine passed quite unwittingly through her lips. Her blush came to view as she turned her head slightly up and to the right

"You're right," Hermione finds herself saying, in a voice foreign to herself, "I am afraid," Hermione brought her hand up to the one Bellatrix had around her throat, pressed it tighter, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to sink". Bellatrix bent her head down to Hermione's, trailing her black curls down around her like a veil. She was a hairbreadth away when a loud crash echoed from the room.

A loud crash echoed through the room?

Hermione jolted to attention in her seat, suddenly hyper aware of her peers around her. She cast a furtive gaze around the room, studying faces and trying to gather whether anyone had any idea that her mind had been drifting. To her immediate left sat Ron, and she could plainly see the look of wonder on his face.

"Blimey Hermione, you gotta teach me an' Harry how to sleep with our eyes open like that," he whispered to her, his eyes opened so wide she couldn't help grinning back at him.

"Yeah, sure Ronald," she whispered back. Hermione brought her gaze to the front of the room, finally, and processed what the rest of her classmates had been watching with mild to incredible astonishment. Professor Black, in her tight black corset glory, was floundering. She repeated the same sentence three times in a row, forgot what she was trying to explain about the spell referenced in it, and looked down at the cracks along the marble floor, as if looking for the answer tucked away in one of them. Abruptly, she snapped her head up and met Hermione's gaze. Hermione was too startled by this abruptness to have the sense to look away. Instead, she stared into dark brown eyes and wide, impossibly dilated pupils. Wide-opened and wild in their sweeping intensity.

"I am quite lost to myself at the moment," Professor Black said, standing straighter and addressing the class but keeping her gaze locked in their visual embrace, "you may be dismissed."

There was a moment of indecision among the fifth year students of Gryffindor—the Slytherins were already making their way to the doors, not looking their gift horse in the mouth. The Gryffindors trickled out in close knit clumps not much later, some casted looks over their shoulders to check if this was really happening. When all was said and done, only Hermione remained in her seat. Neither witch had looked away. Professor Black carefully walked toward the desk Hermione occupied, each step of her immaculate, heeled boots echoing in the empty chamber in a soothing, rhythmic way. The rhythm came to a halt—she was right there—and her towering figure cast a shadow over Hermione. With her left hand she reached down and slowly traced the length of the younger witches jawline, her fingers gliding along without ever actually touching her directly.

" _Merde_ " is the only thing she mutters before she steps away suddenly, walking quickly back to her desk at the front of the room. Hermione stares after her in uncomprehending awe. Hermione probably would have remained seated until she was a corpse had a whisper shout from the main exit not called her attention—or rather, her name.

"'Mione!" Ron un-stealthily yelled at her, "C'mon before she changes her mind!" Hermione could see Harry's head over Ron's shoulder, looking at her with that sorry, anxious expression on his face like getting out of class early is the one thing that's contributing to his happiness, and he can't bear the thought of having it taken from him. Begrudgingly, Hermione gathers her things and joins her friends. As she shuts the door behind her, she doesn't hear the ragged exhale from the older witch finally sinking into her seat.

"That girl," she says to the empty classroom, shaking her head in disbelief, wonderment, "That girl."


	3. Dinner Guests

Hermione prides herself on her suspicious nature. She thinks it makes her better prepared for the unknown, more vigilant. Now, however, sitting on a bed in the middle of an organized mess, she wonders how she missed this. This connection that, after literally being thrown on her lap, was now undeniable, unmistakeable. Of course this would happen, she though. The first real crush Hermione ever gets just had to be on the most unattainable woman on earth. Not only was she leagues ahead in terms of knowledge and beauty, but she was also a professor, and—the cherry on top— the estranged sister to a woman she has come to see as her mother. Andromeda took her in her darkest hour and has never let her down since. The family she welcomed her into were the source of her calm and her happiness; Andromeda, Tonks, Ted, and the house elves—hell, even the cat had become her family too.

But despite everything she had discovered in the past fifteen minutes, she still found her mind was hopelessly occupied with Bellatrix Black. She wanted desperately to forget that her heart did olympic-level feats of gymnastics whenever Bellatrix Black walked into a room. She yearned to burn the memory of bumping into her in the hall one September morning and accidentally grazing her hand across her waist. Hermione wanted all of these things, but what she actually did was take out the picture she found of Bellatrix and Andromeda in their youth, and focus on _her_. On some level, she always knew it was hopeless; she was a professor, there was an age difference. But these plain, impersonal facts did not account for the feeling of familiarity that blossomed in Hermione's chest when she first encountered the older witch at Hogwarts.

Bellatrix Black returned to her position as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts after a lengthy sabbatical leave. Hermione was already a third year. She remembered, quiet clearly, arriving to class 15 minutes early—15 minutes late in her book—and nearly jumping out of her skin at the sight of that supremely postured witch sitting at her desk, staring at her lap. For her part, Bellatrix seemed more bemused than annoyed at the early arrival. She merely looked at Hermione for a moment before looking back down; Hermione could see now that she had a book open on her lap. Eyes moving across the page as if they did not truly care for what was written on them, she spoke,

"You're early. Grab a seat and be quiet."

Hermione did as she was told. Her blunt words and curt demeanor did not offend her. On the contrary, after only meeting this woman a few minutes ago, Hermione felt _safe_. That wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to, then. That fateful morning started a routine that continued to this day— _and will end now that I know what I know_ , Hermione hastily reminded herself. Even if there was nothing technically, biologically incestuous about it, there was a history between Andromeda and Bellatrix; a battle had been fought, a line drawn, and Hermione vowed silently to stick to her side, no matter what. Why did that phrase evoke such nostalgia in her?

A beat passed in silence, Hermione tilted her head up to stare at the ceiling, as if that would help the gnawing feeling at the back of her head. Somehow, it did, as she suddenly remembered and snapped her head forward in her surprise - _No Matter What_ was the book she had been reading, or, rather, had been _pretending_ to read on that first day.

Hermione remembered walking in to class one Monday morning, ready to carry out their ritual of silent acknowledgement, when Bellatrix's sigh perforated the atmosphere. From that sigh sprung an explanation, and then a twelve minute tirade on why the subject of the conservation of matter through magic should not be cheapened with a romantic sub-plot. They were the best twelve minutes of Hermione's life. And then they were over, and Hermione found herself replying before her mind could comprehend what that infernal tongue of hers was shaping into speech.

"If you think about it, the general concept of conservation is necessarily tied to humans and our love lives. Really, the science is a sub-plot of the romance, because what is the point of stating that matter is forever the same in this world through our magic if our magic did not keep remnants of those we love close to us?" Bellatrix frowned, took her feet off from where they were perched on her desk, and leaned over in her chair.

"Clarify," she ordered.

"Well, you've probably read Schillfuer's theory that our magic has a propensity of identify to us those we love, or those who we will come to love. His famous examples include the incident of the robbery gone wrong at Gringotts, where one of the bank tellers felt that familiar tug to one of the robbers—who turned out to be his lover under the guise of a polyjuice potion. Well, and this is, I guess, my own theory, why couldn't that apply to matter across the board? I mean, when we die, it's not like our magic just disappears; it is returned to the universe. So, it is plausible that one could feel that telltale familiar tug to, say, a tree—it could be the case that this tree germinated with the magic released from a deceased loved one, and that very magic recognized the magic within oneself…have I lost you?" Hermione trailed off, venturing down from the high of being able to discuss experimental theory and noticing the expression on her professor's face.

"Perhaps not. Correct me if I am wrong, but you seem to be arguing that our magic conserves matter, not to keep the universe in order, but to keep our loved-ones near?" Bellatrix half-asked, half stated.

"Correct."

"That is the most half-baked, backwards, irresponsible theory—you're basically saying that the universe itself is a self-propagating, continuous love story…" she lost her steam midway, replaced it with a thoughtful look

"…And?" Hermione ventured to ask.

"And," She paced back and forth, turning suddenly to face Hermione she said, "I think

you're onto something."

Something changed in their relationship that day. Not overtly, of course—they still observed formalities and kept a respectable distance from each other. But as they continued to test theories now and again, Hermione felt safe enough to disclose one day, in her fourth year, her best kept secret.

"You're kidding me," Bellatrix said. Hermione could tell the older woman was trying to keep from laughing outright. She was failing. Finally letting out a strangled, wet gasp, tears fell from her eyes as she doubled over in laughter.

"Your middle name is—" Bellatrix was interrupt by another fit of undignified snorting that devolved into breathless gasping, "your middle name is _Atthis_?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, for the umpteenth time.

"And—and that makes your initials—" another break as she struggled for breath "Your initials are _H-A-G_!"

"Yes, hilarious I know," Hermione replied "This is why I usually tell people that it's Jean".

"Merlin your parents certainly have a sense of humor" Bellatrix said, apparently recovered from her fit of breathless giggling. For a minute she actually had Hermione worried—she sounded absolutely mental when she laughed like that. But at the mention of her parents, Hermione suddenly grew quiet. If Bellatrix sensed the change in Hermione, she didn't comment on it. That was another thing Hermione appreciated about Bellatrix; she knew when not to pursue a topic.

Hermione was startled out of her memories by the sound of a commotion down stairs. Gently extracting herself from the mess of pictures and letters on the bed, she made her way to the door and down the stairs. Halfway down, she saw the cause of all the noise. And she stopped dead in her tracks. In the foyer stood Andromeda and Tonks, their backs to her as they faced the two figures in front of them. The figures still wore their traveling cloaks with the hood pulled up—it had started to rain some time ago, judging by the droplets of rain that clung to the hood. But Hermione knew, even before the hood came down, that it was Bellatrix. The one on the left at least. She still had no idea who the figure on the right could be. Still halfway down the stairs, Hermione considered going back up to the room and waiting this out—whatever it was. As she moved to turn and go back up the stairs, however, the figure on the right caught the motion and looked at her with a razor sharp, icy blue glare. She removed her hood as she remained staring at Hermione.

"Dro—terribly sorry to interrupt the silent death glare you've been giving us for the past ten minutes, but who is this?" The woman with the coldest blue eyes asked, gesturing to Hermione with a jut of her chin. Her words, though cool and polite, dripped with a haughty sentiment; she might as well have asked why this girl of unknown origins had the audacity to breathe in the same general area as her.

Swiveling around, Andromeda finally saw Hermione standing there, hovering as if unsure of herself. She briefly caught Hermione's eyes with her own and held them for a fractional moment before turning back to say, "This is Hermione Granger, she is a part of this family, and if you really wish to reconnect like you claim, you will accept her as your own. Or else."

Tonks looked over her mother's shoulders and winked at her. She was confused for a moment, and then Tonks tipped her head towards Bellatrix and kept winking maniacally. _Oh Merlin_.

"Or else?" The imposing figure on the right asked, still somehow expressing a sense of her own superiority.

"Or else you and Bella can leave and never come back, Narcissa," Andromeda replied evenly.

So this was the third sister, Hermione surmised. She chanced another glance at _her_ on her descent down the stairs; sure enough, she was already looking at her, looking at her as if she knew exactly what was going on in her mind. Sometimes, Hermione wondered if she really knew—was that a smile she caught on her lips just now? There was a twinkle in her eyes; a barely hidden glee, even in this tense, emotionally charged atmosphere. Finally, Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and stood slightly behind Andromeda, who was waging a staring contest with Narcissa.

It looked as if Narcissa were about to reply with something sharp or snarky, but a combination of a nudge and a glare from Bellatrix stopped her short. Instead, Bellatrix spoke for the both of them,

"If Hermione is your family, then she's ours too," Out of the corner of her vision, she eyed Narcissa, "right Cissy?" Narcissa gave a tight nod at this, though she did not look too pleased. To be fair, it could've been the nickname Bellatrix chose for her that put her in a bad mood. "We came to make amends, 'Dro" Bellatrix added softly, looking more vulnerable than she'd ever thought possible.

Andromeda was quiet for a moment, Tonks wrapped her arm around her mother's waist for support. There was a pregnant pause, a moment suspended where the five witches simply stood staring at one another in the foyer. Then Andromeda spoke, her voice lifting the veil of silence that had settled around them, "After almost two decades of silence—of no contact—it's true, Father sanctioned that rule, but you all, my _sisters_ , my best friends— you adhered to it," Narcissa looked as if she were about to say something to the contrary but Andromeda cast a look her way and continued on , "Why now? After all these years? Why tonight specifically?"

"I'd like to know that too," Narcissa said, surprising everyone "this was all Bella's idea—a good one, in theory. Perhaps a bit poor in execution."

Bellatrix shot her an unreadable look before addressing Andromeda, "I'd love to explain," she paused dramatically, making a show of sniffing the air and patting her stomach, "over dinner though, hm? I'm positively starved, darling."

Andromeda looked uncertain. She turned to her daughter, who nodded her acceptance to her. Then she turned to Hermione, who had her eyes glued to Bellatrix. _Interesting,_ Andromeda thought, filing that observation for later analysis. "Hermione?" She called to get the young witch's attention. Hazel eyes finally found hers, and she smiled before stating, "it's up to you."

Suddenly finding herself at the center of attention, Hermione froze. This many eyes on her wouldn't normally faze the young witch, but she could feel a particular set - those wild brown eyes- burrowing into her soul. She started to speak but stuttered and tried to start over. Taking a deep breath, she focused her eyes on Narcissa's instead—there was no way of fooling herself about any warmth in them, at least. She finally managed to say "Yes, yes of course."

The evening went as well as expected, which was not at all. As the large group of witches awkwardly made their way from the foyer to the living room, Ted popped in from the kitchen with his apron. Narcissa immediately took her coat off and placed it on Ted's arms, which were outstretched in order to greet his sister-in-laws. He stood, baffled for a moment, then said,

"Narcissa, I'm flattered, but I don't think this is my style."

Narcissa looked astounded and turned to Andromeda accusingly, "Is this how all your servants treat honored guests?"

Andromeda, without looking up from the trolley where she was pouring herself a two finger glass fire whiskey said, "That's my husband, Ted."

Narcissa stood silent for a moment, then took her seat on the couch next to Bellatrix and said airily, "Well, _Ted,_ " she said his name like one might say _tapeworm_ or _malignant tumor_ , "be a dear and put that away for me—and do be careful, it's worth more than—"

Whatever she was about to say next never came out, as she appear to be choking on air. A few seconds later she released a gasp and greedily inhaled fresh air, shooting a glare at Bellatrix , "It's just very expensive, is all."

Ted, in his good nature, accepted this statement and went to put her coat away. Tonks, on the other hand, quipped, "One would think that someone so wealthy wouldn't be concerned about a silly coat. I mean, if you're so bloody rich, why don't ya just buy a new one?"

Narcissa didn't have a chance to reply, Bellatrix interjected quickly, "Cissa is just sentimental; she loves that coat more than she loves her own son, I'd say."

"Draco always comes first," Narcissa said haughtily, then added, "The coat is a close second, however."

"Well, at least you learned how to put someone before yourself in my absence,"

Andromeda said dryly, swirling the amber liquid around in her crystal glass. Hermione once again felt like an intruder to a private family drama. Chancing a glance at Tonks, she found the older witch already looking at her, as if to say _yeah, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you_. That was some solace, at least. But Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she did not belong here, in this room, watching this stew of repressed feelings bubble over. She racked her brain for an excuse to go back upstairs and possibly even skip dinner entirely. As she opened her mouth to speak, Bellatrix foiled her plans,

"Hermione—I hope I can address you by your first name now that we're not at school—you are quiet an unexpected addition," She began, innocently enough; but there was a gleam in her eyes that Hermione knew meant trouble, "Not an unpleasant surprise, of course, I just wonder why you never mentioned that you live with my estranged sister in any of our…conversations." The amount of innuendo Bellatrix added to that last word made Hermione blush and look away, even though there was nothing to be hinted at. They never crossed any boundaries; but when Bellatrix said _conversation_ like anyone else would say _sex marathon_ , she almost wished they had.

Finding her voice somewhere next to her intestinal tract, Hermione braved the reply "Well, even if I had known — Andromeda," she glanced at the witch in question with a wry half smile, "was your sister, you just said yourself that you're estranged. I think it would be an inappropriate topic for a student to discuss with a professor." Bellatrix crossed her arms and looked at Hermione critically,

"So you didn't register that we look exactly alike? What is that muggle phrase you used once, a 'carton copy' of each other?" Hermione wanted to laugh despite the absurdity of the situation.

"A _carbon_ copy," she corrected gently, the beginning of a genuine smile on her face.

The other witches in the room watched this exchange in silent confusion. While Hermione and Bellatrix continued to stare at each other, Andromeda said,

"I didn't know you had resumed your position at the school."

Narcissa chimed "Me neither…I wonder why Draco wouldn't tell me. You didn't put him under an _imperius_ spell did you?" She looked at Bellatrix's face closely for a moment and then gasped, "You did! How could you! To meddle with _my_ son's mental state! _Your own blood_?"

"Calm down Cissy," Bellatrix drawled, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, "I didn't hurt him—he asked me to, so we could have a more private relationship."

Narcissa looked outraged, even more so when Bellatrix added, "You watch the poor boy like a hawk, he just wanted someone he could be open and honest with and not have to divulge every detail to you." Turning to address Andromeda directly, Bellatrix spared no further thought to Narcissa as she answered, "Yes, I returned two years ago."

"After I graduated." Tonks said evenly.

"That is correct."

"Why?" the younger witch asked. Hermione thought she detected a sense of rejection, a hurt that, if pressed, the witch would never admit to feeling.

Looking at her only niece, Bellatrix squared her shoulders and said, "To protect you." glancing around the room, she met everyone's eyes, one pair at a time. She lingered on Hermione's the longest, or at least Hermione thought she did. Time tended to escape her whenever the older witch looked at her.

"There is something going on under the surface of this society," Bellatrix continued seriously. Hermione felt like she was back in class—like she should taking notes. "Something is stirring, that, if fully realized, will tear us all apart. That's why it had to be today".

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Bellatrix" Andromeda said carefully, "but we've already been torn apart—by you, and your ideals." The room fell silent after that. In the moments that followed, Hermione though she could _hear_ the decades of pain and loneliness the three sisters suffered at their own hands.

Ted popped back into the living room in a disjunctively cheerful manner, announcing that dinner was ready. "There's enough for everyone!" He said proudly, adding, "Provided no one wants seconds."


	4. Things We Don't Say

No one wanted seconds. As it was, everybody pushed their food around on their plates; Bellatrix wrinkled her nose at the scalloped potatoes on her dish. Hermione was trying very hard not to look at her throughout dinner. The atmosphere was so tense that Ofie and Auxley excused themselves from the table early, taking their plates into the kitchen to eat. Hermione watched them go with something like envy in her eyes. When she looked back to her plate, she noticed that the sticks of asparagus had been rearranged into the eyes of a smiley face, and the diced carrot into the mouth. Hermione smiled at this and looked up at Tonks to show her she understood the gesture—except Tonks wasn't looking at her. She seemed to be in a silent conversation with Bellatrix; the two witches sat across from each other, unblinking. Hermione's confusion grew. If it wasn't Tonks, and it wasn't Bellatrix, then who—Hermione felt it before she saw it. The corners of Narcissa's mouth turned marginally upward, the temperature of the room seemed to drop about ten degrees. Hermione dreaded the words before they reached her,

" _Sorry to disappoint, dear, but I thought you could use some cheering up—turn that frown the other way around, I believe is what the mugs say,"_ Narcissa's voice flowed like silk in her mind. Was it possible for silk to sound like ice? Because that's exactly what Hermione felt in her mind as Narcissa's voice floated through it. Hermione's eyes darted quickly around the table to see whether or not anyone noticed this silent exchange; everyone was lost in their own revelries. Andromeda and Ted were looking into each others' eyes, as if drawing strength from one another—they looked like newlyweds. Turning her attention back to her plate, Hermione pretended to be interested in separating the asparagus from the carrots as she cautiously replied,

" _Its upside down."_

" _What is, dear?"_

" _The saying, its 'turn that frown upside down'"_

" _Ah, there's the little know-it-all my son is always complaining about."_ Hermione lifted her head up at this. A son? Hermione wondered who it could be. Narcissa was older, sure, but she didn't have the lines around her eyes to indicate that she had weathered all the terrible tantrums of a child. Before she could ask, Narcissa anticipated her question and answered,

" _Draco. Draco Malfoy. He's in your year. Slytherin, obviously."_ Hermione couldn't help it, she groaned out loud. The thought of that little weasel vexed her to the point of barely suppressed rage. Her groan drew all eyes to her, and suddenly Hermione found herself at the receiving end of multiple inquisitive looks. Tonks spoke up first. She reached over from where she was sitting to the left of her and patted her arm on the table, asking,

"Alright, 'Mione?"

"Yeah I just..I remembered that Professor Black assigned the rising fifth years with loads of work over summer break…and I…haven't started yet.." This seemed to break the stifling atmosphere as Andromeda let out a guffaw and Narcissa somehow managed to roll her eyes and look posh doing so. Bellatrix looked at Hermione strangely and started to say something when Ted cut in,

"Hermione you've only just got home! Surely one day of rest wouldn't kill you?"

"She's probably going through withdrawal from not holding a book in twenty four hours," Tonks said with her teasing grin. This seemed to break the meditative state Andromeda had retreated into, and she joined in the banter,

"It can't be that—I saw her putting a book in her knapsack when I met her at the station." She smiled warmly at Hermione when she said this, so there could be no mistaking the loving tone layered beneath the light teasing. Bellatrix and Narcissa watched this interaction with matching expressions of wistfulness. Hermione felt, once again, that she was the center of attention—but it was the attention of one witch in particular which inspired her cheeks to color themselves the red of a setting sun. Bellatrix let her heavy gaze rest on Hermione for a moment.

In this moment, she felt the sharp tug in the pit of her stomach that she always felt whenever she apparated. She felt herself transported to another time, another place. This, all in a moment—and what a moment! It was the moment the frothy tips of a wave finally met its beloved shore. Then came the inevitable retreat; the wave was dragged back by an unseen force. The moment was over, and Bellatrix turned to whisper something to Narcissa as if she didn't just experience an odd, life changing experience in the space of a fraction of a second. Narcissa half-turned so her ear was still on the receiving end of Bellatrix's hurried whisper, but her eyes, the color of an Egyptian sea at dawn, were on Hermione.

On the other end of the dining room table, Ted gave Andromeda a look of sincere devotion. Apparently rousing herself for what she was about to say, she addressed her sisters.

"Right then," She squared her shoulders and straightened her back, unconsciously adopting the posture of her aristocratic youth, "Bellatrix, you've held out long enough. I think you ought to share what you mentioned earlier."

"Oh, about the force that threatens to tear us all apart?" the eldest Black asked.

"Yes," Andromeda's face betrayed her annoyance, "That."

"Well, I think that's a conversation to be had over tea."

"Oh for the love of—" Andromeda rose as she voiced her indignation, but Ted quickly

sprang up too and wrapped an arm around her, voicing his agreement.

"Tea sounds like a great idea! A night like this calls for Darjeeling, wouldn't you say,

dear?" Andromeda stared sharp, pointy daggers and her sister, but nodded to Ted. He made his way to the kitchen, sending a wink in the direction of Tonks and Hermione.

The ladies were left alone at the dinner table. Tonks warmed herself up to break the tension that once again fell over the group, but a brilliant stallion made out of wispy blue smoke burst into the dinning room and startled the witches. It trotted up to Tonks, nodding its large, long head and then turned and ran out the way it had came.

"Ah, shite!" Andromeda looked cross at Tonks outburst of foul language, and Tonks sheepishly continued, "Sorry, its just that that was my unit chief's patronus—auror training, mandatory and randomly scheduled to avoid planned attacks on the facilities," she explained, smiling apologetically at her mother. Andromeda frowned but did not argue as her daughter got up and excused herself from the table.

Tonks ruffled the top of Hermione's hair and kissed her mother on the cheek, but seemed unsure of how to say goodbye to her estranged aunts. For their part, they seemed equally unsure about how to proceed.

After a beat, Narcissa spoke in a surprisingly gentle tone, "Be careful." A mother's sentiment. Bellatrix nodded stiffly, then seemed to rethink this as a farewell to her only niece.

"Try not to die." To anyone else, Tonks would seem stoic and unaffected by these goodbyes. But to the trained eye of someone who loves her, it was clear that Tonks was secretly pleased at the attention. It just wasn't a very well-kept secret. Tonks took leave and headed to the kitchen to say goodbye to her father.

Suddenly finding herself the only non-Black sister in the room, Hermione made to leave as well. Before she could, however, Andromeda caught her eye and held her in her gaze. It seemed to say _stay_ and _please don't leave me alone with these strangers I once loved._ And how was Hermione to say 'no' to a look that said so much? Instead, she got up and took the seat that Tonks had just vacated, placing her next to Andromeda and across from Bellatrix and Narcissa. Underneath the table, Andromeda reached over and grasped the Hermione's hand, squeezing it slightly before relaxing into a comfortable hold. Narcissa spoke first.

"Well Bellatrix," she said, leaning back in her seat, the epitome of erudite composure, "I would love to hear the reason why you dragged me away from my son right when he's finally come home."

"After twenty one years," Andromeda said quietly.

"Twenty two come May," Narcissa added, with a significant look at her second oldest sister.

"Well—" Bellatrix began, but stopped as Ted bustled in with the tea. Seeing that he was obviously intruding, he left the tray of mugs on the table and said,

"I'll be upstairs in my study—try not to have too much fun ladies!" The company in question certainly could not be accused of trying to have any amount of fun, save perhaps Bellatrix, but no one tried to correct the perpetually jovial man. Bellatrix picked up two mugs and handed one of them to Narcissa. She continued with where she left off.

"As I was beginning to say, I took a sabbatical some years ago—coincidentally, right before Tonks would have been my student. You have to believe me 'Dro, that wasn't intentional. I wouldn't…I meant I wasn't trying to avoid her" Bellatrix said pleadingly. Andromeda looked at her the same way she had all evening; guardedly. Bellatrix realized that she was running up against a brick wall, fortified by twenty two years of familial severance, so she continued with her story.

"It wasn't a vacation. The auror's office contacted me for a top secret mission. I was voluntarily put under the _fidelius_ charm," a gasp sounded in the room; Hermione was surprised, after looking around the room, to realize that she herself was the source of it. "I cannot disclose all the details of this mission, obviously, but I think I've found a loophole." Bellatrix took a break from explaining to sip her tea. Hermione saw through the rouse; she was panting slightly, as if speaking even this vaguely literally put her in pain. _It must be excruciating,_ Hermione thought, _to speak against the magic that binds a secret to your soul._

"I'm going to tell you all a story. This is a _very_ important story about a girl who looks for clues. There is a girl, let's call her, hmmm, Atthis," Hermione hoped Andromeda couldn't feel her palms sweating, "and this girl was good at finding things. So she looked for reasons that might explain why things were going bad. Why, oh I don't know, spells would backfire and kill their master, or why—" Bellatrix stopped suddenly and made to claw at her neck, as if being choked by a poltergeist. After some uncomfortable seconds ticked by, she regained her composure and started on again, "some apparently unexplainable things would happen. Now this Atthis, she was a clever girl; she noticed that these events correlated with outbursts of the…negative kind. She put together the strings that, when viewed up-close, made no obvious sense. But, when she took a step back, created a terrible tapestry of pain and hate; if a witch in Berlin, say, maliciously manipulated magic to some evil mean, a wizard in Westchester would find that his _episky_ would, completely unintentionally, come out as a _crucio._ And these events were never linked before because of the distance, and because others had looked for a specific target to blame; a scapegoat. It was a far more horrifying realization to discover how we all might be complicit."

There was a long, contracted silence that settled across the room after Bellatrix's vague allegory. Andromeda squeezed Hermione's hand once, twice, and then stirred herself to speak.

"Would you say," she began, in a quiet, measured tone that unsettled Hermione, "that one such 'malicious' act might be, perhaps, expelling a family member from her childhood home and casting an _imperio_ on all her friends and family to never speak to her again? Would that be something that qualifies, _Professor_?" Andromeda's voice steadily built up in intensity, until her last question felt like a verbal slap across the face. Hermione actually flinched, and it wasn't even directed at her. Bellatrix looked pale and exhausted, but she nodded anyway.

"Yes. Yes that was," she caught herself, " _is_ a horrible, terrible thing I—I was young, Andromeda, I was so young and so afraid to lose you- I thought if I scared you, you might reconsider." Andromeda opened her mouth, no doubt to issue another verbally abusive rejoinder, but Bellatrix charged on, "But there is no excusing it. My actions had— _have_ consequences, and I can't help but see the ripple in every unexplained case of magic turning on itself. The world is falling apart as we know it, and I know deep down in my heart that the first step to fixing it is to beg for your forgiveness."

"So why did it take you so long?" Andromeda asked, her voice betraying nothing. But Hermione felt the grip on her hand, which tightened whenever she was about to speak, loosen somewhat.

"I met someone who changed my life." All three of the other witches raised their eyebrows at this. Additionally, and conversely, Hermione felt her heart plummet down into her stomach.

"This someone," Bellatrix continued, "showed me that magic and love are necessarily connected; that the bonds that are formed between creatures with magic are never truly broken; only recycled." Hermione's heart cautiously began to rise—could it be? As if she read her mind, Bellatrix glanced in her direction and gave her a significant look. What that look was supposed to signify was beyond her. Narcissa, who had thus far been a silent observer to these proceedings, filled the silence that had fallen.

"So, if I understand correctly, the world is being torn apart by hate—our hate, everybody's hate—and we don't know it, or how to stop it? And to top it all off, you've gone and fallen in love?" Narcissa asked, incredulous.

"I think," Hermione spoke up finally, "what Bell—Professor Black is _trying_ to say is that the magic plaguing our world is that of hate. And it is difficult to ascertain, but yes, magic tied to emotion is forever linked to that emotion, unless—and you can correct me if I'm wrong, professor—unless that emotion is necessarily an oppositional force. And what is more oppositional to hate but love?" Hermione finished, a bit flustered for speaking so passionately about emotion to such grounded, rational, intimidating women.

"You're not wrong, Hermione," Bellatrix said softly, in her low poetic voice, "you rarely are. And you can call me Bellatrix when we're not in Hogwarts." Hermione flushed red but nodded to show that she understood. This woman made intelligent speech go out the window.

"My takeaway is that you want me to forgive you for cutting me off from everyone I loved besides Ted and Tonks for almost twenty two years because the fate of the world depends on it," Andromeda said, "and that just isn't sitting well with me. It seems a bit convenient on your end." Bellatrix looked like a wounded puppy. Hermione pitied her, so she spoke up.

"Andromeda, if you don't mind, I'd like to play devil's advocate here—"

"Hold on, am I the devil in this scenario?" Bellatrix asked, somehow looking even more

like a kicked puppy.

"Go ahead, love," said Andromeda.

"What Bellatrix explained is easier for me to understand, not because I'm claiming to be the smartest witch in the room—"

"Good, because you're not" Narcissa interjected airily

"—but because I've seen this before," Hermione spared a glare at Narcissa and continued, "or rather, I've studied it in my muggle school. See, muggles have this conception of a particular decade in American history to be a decade of peace, love, and psychedelic drugs—the 1970s, in short. But in school, we learned that this was actually a counter culture, a reaction to all the terrible things going on in the country before and during that time. The country was involved in a war in a country called Vietnam, and it was televised—imagine, a picture like in _The Daily Prophet_ , but unlike the _The Daily Prophet_ , this picture has sound and sometimes color and is depicting the depravities of war on all sides, all day, everyday. For the first time, Americans were starting to see themselves as the bad guys. So this counterculture was the solution of the next generation—a remedy to the hate and violence all around. Unfortunately, others in the culture didn't understand, and several muggles peacefully protesting were shot and killed in various different places. In short—hate begets hate. It's consequences are universal. However, in the case of the magical community, our hate begets hate which begets _crucio._ The stakes are higher. And I'm not surprised."

"You're not, you little know-it-all?" Narcissa said, sounding uncannily like the other Malfoy.

"No, I'm not. The stratification in this community, the way purebloods treat muggle-born witches and wizards and actively work to have them systematically disadvantaged—not to mention the wars! Merlin, purebloods have funded the most atrocious campaigns against magical creatures—and to what end? To assert some sort of superiority over them? It's horrible and nonsensical," Hermione finished hotly.

"Why nonsensical?" asked Narcissa.

"Because wouldn't the truly superior being not need to violently subjugate another to establish dominance? Wouldn't it just come naturally?" countered Hermione. Narcissa looked as if she were formulating a response, but Bellatrix cut in first.

"You're right again, Hermione."

Andromeda smiled fondly at Hermione and kissed her forehead.

"My little warrior," she whispered to her, making Hermione turn into a bashful girl again. Turning her attention to her sisters, Andromeda said, "If you are sincere in your apology, Bellatrix, then lift the _imperio."_

"It's been done," Bellatrix said in a low, soft voice, "I am so sorry for the pain I caused—the pain I put you through."

"I—" Narcissa started and stopped, as if she had never had to apologize to anyone before, "I am sorry as well, Andy. I was under the _imperio_ but I can't help but wonder…I mean if my will had been stronger, I could've saved us all so much more time."

Hermione was quite unprepared for the flood of emotions that these heartfelt apologies released in Andromeda. Hermione knew, she always knew that Andromeda was the kindest person she'd ever met. But to forgive her sisters for something like that? Well, Hermione now considered Andromeda the magical equivalent of Mother Teresa. The sisters converged until they formed a triptych of austere beauty and incredible sorrow, arms looped around one another, supporting and comforting at the same time. Hermione watched from her seat at the dinner table as they slowly, somewhat unwillingly pulled apart and sat down again, this time much closer to each other.

"This isn't going to instantly fix every issue," Andromeda warned, still wiping the tear from her eyes, "it's going to take some time before I can fully trust either of you again."

"I understand," Bellatrix said without hesitation.

"I understand as well," Narcissa said, with some hesitation.

"But you can regain some of that trust right now by telling me about that 'someone' you

mentioned earlier," Andromeda added with a grin.

"Ah—uhh…you see, interesting story, I…actually…can't," Bellatrix struggled to get out.

"Why is that Bella? Are you under another _fidelius_ charm?" Andromeda joked.

"It feels like that, sometimes" Bellatrix replied seriously, glancing quickly at Hermione and then away at everything, anything else. Narcissa's eyes darted between the two witches and, unbeknownst to them, a mischievous smile overtook her features. Andromeda, however, noticed her reserved youngest sister smile.

"Something you'd like to share, Cissy?"

"Oh, nothing of importance, I just remembered this story Draco was telling me before I left about…" Narcissa continued talking about something or other, but Hermione drowned her out and focused on Bellatrix. It took some effort, but she managed to crack that daunting mental wall without knowing she was doing so.

" _Bellatrix,"_ Hermione projected into her mind. Bellatrix sat ramrod straight in her chair, startled but trying not to show it.

" _Hermione?_ " asked the older witch. When Hermione slightly nodded her head, careful not to alert the others to their conversation, Bellatrix continued, " _How in the world—I am a trained expert in occulmency, how did you get past my walls?"_

" _I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I did,"_ realizing that she may have come off cocky instead of genuinely perplexed, Hermione hastened to add " _I just wanted to talk to you in private."_

This seemed to have a strange effect on Bellatrix. She seemed…nervous? " _What did you want to talk about?"_ she asked cautiously.

" _Honestly I don't know myself, really. Perhaps just…hello."_

Bellatrix smiled in spite of herself, " _Hello, Hermione."_


	5. Elvish Wine & Story Time

Hermione had never seen such a change come over someone before. Forty minutes ago things had still been tense, a little stifling in the aftermath of years of unshed tears and unpolished apologies. Now, two glasses into a very expensive bottle of elvish wine, it was like she was in a parallel universe. The others were far ahead of her, of course, as seasoned experts in drunken revelry. This last part was being explained to Hermione by two thirds of the Black sisters.

"Oh Andy," Narcissa started to say, interrupted by a shockingly unrefined burp, "remember—member the time we drank some of daddy's elvish draft and we," _hiccup_ "we…we…we—"

"Oui! In Paris, the summer before our sixth year. Oh, those Beauxbaton girls showed us a good time!" Andromeda said, little too loudly to sound sober. She and Narcissa had been going through a naught list of all the girls and boys they snogged while drunk out of their minds. When they first started talking about girls, Hermione wanted to jump out of her skin. She looked at Andromeda in alarm when Narcissa recounted the ludicrous tale of Andromeda sneaking out past curfew to shag her Hufflepuff girlfriend in the Room of Requirement. Andromeda repaid Hermione's shocked expression with an arched eyebrow and a shrug of her shoulders—a look that said _What, did you think you were the only one on earth to fancy girls?_ Now, however, the conversation was moving to more sordid accounts of all sorts of debauchery.

"You loud, sloppy fools are turning Hermione into a tomato," Bellatrix drawled from the corner of the loveseat, where she was curled up. She had decided early on to be a silent observer for the most part, adding jeering remarks every now and again and occasionally correcting small details from the conversation; Hermione had felt her eyes on her since they had migrated from the dinner table. She wanted desperately to continue their mental conversation from earlier, but Hermione had had too much too quickly to even attempt any sort of magic.

Narcissa seemed to take her sister's comment literally, and whipped her head up from where it was beginning to lull against the side of the couch's armrest.

"Oh dear. Hope that was-wasn't-" _hiccup_ "me—my fault."

"Noo Cissy," Andromeda reassured her little sister, "Bella meant that in a metamormorphical way."

" _Metaphorical"_ Hermione corrected under her breath.

"Amazing, the girl is tossed and she still corrects us," Narcissa said in a light tone that dulled the blow of her words, "no wonder my son can't stand you."

"Yes, she has a talent for surprising you with her know-it-all-ness" Bellatrix said from her corner.

"I'm not surprised anymore," Andromeda said proudly (and loudly), "living with Hermione is like having a walking talking book that also happens to be your daughter." Hermione flushed at this, as she always did when Andromeda got sentimental. Or expressed any kind of emotion, really. Across from the young witch, Narcissa sat up straight and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hand

"About that," Narcissa started, and Hermione already knew how she'd finish, "how did that come about? Not that we're not pleased to be welcomed into the family," she hastily added, in fear of her words being misunderstood, "I'm just curious how a mud— _muggle_ sorry, dear, how a muggle-born came to live under my sister's roof." Hermione glanced at Andromeda, trying to communicate with her like she had with her sisters. Thankfully, she didn't need to project her thoughts for Andromeda to understand what she was thinking. She nodded when Andromeda made eye-contact and raised an eyebrow. It was their signal for _Are you alright with this?_ Andromeda cleared her throat, Narcissa leaned forward still, and Bellatrix tried to look like she was nonchalantly inspecting her nails. She wouldn't be fooling anyone if they were looking, but luckily for her all attention was on Andromeda. Hermione tucked her legs underneath her and wrapped a shawl over her shoulders, unconsciously curling up into a protective ball.

"As you well know, Hermione comes from a muggle family," Andromeda began, "in her first year, Tonks was already a seventh year. They saw each other occasionally at Black Lake. Hermione liked to read there in silence and Tonks liked playing with the mermaids. Always liked to play with fire, that one," Andromeda added, a little sadly, "Anyway, one day there was an incident, a mermaid got a little _too_ friendly and Hermione acted quickly—one thing led to another, and my Tonks shows her gratitude by buying Hermione her first butterbeer. And her second. And third and fourth and fifth." Hermione smiled at this, despite knowing that in just a few moments, she would be reliving her most painful memories.

"So, my tossed little lion and my slightly tipsy badger get to talking, as we do when liquor loosens us," Andromeda continued, aware of the irony in her words, "And Tonks notices that Hermione doesn't talk about her family, her home—not even herself, really. Just books and theories. So Tonks asks outright, what about your parents? And Hermione, she—" Andromeda stops, gathers herself for the hardest part, the one she could never understand; how could any parent worth their salt? "She explains, slurs really, that this is her last year at Hogwarts, that her father had fallen under the influence of some…disagreeable characters, and had given her an ultimatum. Leave the school, or leave her family. Hermione hadn't been able to contact her mother in all this time, since _he_ forbid all forms of magical communication—even a letter delivered by _owl_ was just too much for the man!" Andromeda huffed, then remembered herself.

"So, what does my Tonks do after hearing this? She gets Hermione to her dorm safely, because she did just get an impressionable first year drunk for the first time—and the golden girl, at that. Then she gets to work, mining over the details Hermione had given her. Where she grew up, what kind of house she grew up in, those kind of things. One week later, she sneaks out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night and hops on a train to Kings Cross. She finds Hermione's house after some trial and error—I recall her telling me that she knocked on the doors of half the homes in the neighborhood and every single time, it looked liked the exact same pale white middle-aged couple came to the door. Well, finally she gets to a house where only a woman answers. Apparently she looks just like an older version of Hermione. So Tonks starts talking about Hermione right off the bat, telling her that she really misses her mother. The lady interrupts her, telling her she has no idea who Hermione is. Then Tonks says, I go to school with your daughter. And the woman's face changes. Suddenly, she leans in, as if afraid of someone inside listening to her conversation. She tells Tonks that no matter _what_ , in any circumstance, Hermione cannot come home. Ever. For her safety. Before she can say anything else, a man comes up behind her. His eyes look wild and bloodshot, his hair combed a little too neatly. Tonks gets a bad feeling immediately. The woman's entire demeanor suddenly changes; now she is just like the other wives in the other houses she knocked on—complaint, meek, afraid. He asks what this is all about. Tonks looks at Hermione's mother and sees pure terror on her face. So she says, I was wondering if you'd seen a stray cat around—I just lost mine, this neighborhood was the last place she was soon. He didn't buy this story. His grip on the door frame grew tighter, his knuckles were white. Before he can say anything, she thanks them for their time and runs down the street, shouting Pumpernickle! Where are you! Meow if you can hear me!"

"Instead of going straight back to school, Tonks came here. She waited, oddly patient, while I reprimanded her, which is how I knew something serious was happening. She showed me her memory of the day in our pensive. She didn't even need to ask. Hermione came home with her at the end of the year." Andromeda smiled as she came to this part, "And we've been a bigger family ever since." The room fell into a thoughtful silence. The grandfather clock chimed unobtrusively, alerting the occupants that it was one in the morning. No one made a move to leave. Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet.

"Have you heard anything from your mother since then?" She asked softly, an uncharacteristic shine in her eyes. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think Narcissa had been moved to tears.

"No," Hermione answered softly.

"What about the rest of your family?"

"Nothing, from anyone."

"Hermione," Bellatrix interrupts suddenly, "did you live in the muggle part of Chatsworth?"

"Yes. Yes I—how did you know?" asked Hermione

"On my sabbatical I—" Bellatrix stopped just as suddenly as she started, clutching at her throat. Hermione put the pieces together.

"You think its related? My father's sudden change in disposition and the thing you mentioned earlier—could it be?" In answer, Bellatrix nodded tightly. Evidently, it was still hard for her to speak over the _fidelius._ Hermione made the rest of the connections for the rest of the party, "The part that struck me about what Tonks said was the other families—the identical nature. I don't think it was looks so much as behavior, mannerism. What if there was larger force influencing them? My father was always such a mild-mannered man…it's hard to explain the change that came over him in my first year…it's almost too good to be true." At this, Hermione got some strange looks. She explained,

"It would be nice to have an actual answer as to why…why this happened. I know sometimes the truth is that people change for the worst, for reasons we can't understand, but if there is an actual explanation for this…that would be so…it would just be easier to understand. I want there to be a reason."

"There might be," Bellatrix said softly, looking at Hermione with her intense, dark eyes. The young witch thought she could detect traces of sympathy in her voice. Maybe even pity. She pushed this from her thoughts.

Another silence filled the room. Each witch was lost in her own respective thoughts, thinking of what one usually thinks of in these moments—one's self.

Narcissa wondered if there was a force on earth strong enough to keep her away from her son. She discarded the notion almost immediately. Preposterous.

Andromeda was thinking about whether she could ever fill the shoes of Hermione's mother, if Hermione would ever call her 'mom', or if that word was tainted for her forever.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, wondered if she should have worn a lower cut gown. If there was anything she learned in her years as Hermione's professor, it was that a little cleavage could possess the girl's thoughts for quite some time. And right now, the poor girl looked so torn, Bellatrix just wanted to take her mind off things. She actually considered walking up to her and pulling the young girl to her bosom. Not in a sexual way, she tried to rationalize it to herself—just to reassure the girl that she was there. As quickly as the thought came, she tried to stamp it out. _I'm not the girl's mother,_ she thought, _or even her friend._ She didn't dwell on why that last part made her heart ache.

They heard a shuffling sound from upstairs, a door open and shut quietly and a set of feet slowly made their way down the stairs. Ted stood at the bottom of the staircase in his pajamas; a loose pair of flannel pants and a large faded shirt that said "I LOVE MY WIFE" in big block letters. Andromeda had gotten it for him as a gag-gift on their anniversary, and Ted, being Ted, loved it and vowed to wear it everyday of his life. And he did, technically, by wearing it to bed every night. He walked over to the entrance of the living room and leaned against the frame, glancing around at their tired, inebriated faces.

"I take it you ladies had fun?" He was met with a chorus of grumbles, and a distinct "Oh dear Merlin someone stop him and his relentless optimism" that Hermione was pretty sure came from Narcissa.

"Well, its just after one in the morning, you all are very clearly in no shape to apparate home, and if my wife hasn't offered already, you are welcome to stay with us for the night. I make a mean egg in a basket, if you need convincing."

"Very well, show us to our rooms" said Narcissa, surprisingly not putting up a fight. Hermione thought the pure-blood would make a scene at the implication that she was not capable of apparating home. She must have been more drunk than she looked.

"Ahem…well, we currently only have one guest room, with a twin bed…I converted the other guest room into a study" Ted offered sheepishly.

"Well then," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, "We'll just transfigure—"

"NO!" Ted yelled in a panic. Narcissa and Bellatrix looked at him in alarm. Andromeda and Hermione shared a knowing look.

"It's just that…everything in this house is a _statement_ piece, you know? I've arranged everything _just right_ and transfiguring anything—I mean _anything_ is just absolutely—its just. Well, I absolutely prohibit it." To emphasize his seriousness, Ted cross his arms over his chest and lifted his chin up, daring anyone to challenge his interior decorating authority. Bellatrix looked like she was going to take the bait.

"Putting your foot down, are you?" Bellatrix asked innocently enough.

"Both of my feet are firmly on the hardwood floor that I laid down myself" Ted said proudly. "It's teak, if you couldn't tell," he added.

"Well," Narcissa said while releasing a sigh, "It seems I owe you an apology Andy. I thought you married a weak man, but he's obviously got his priorities straight." Turning to Ted, she looked him up and down cooly before saying, "I admire a man who takes pride in his home."

Ted smiled and looked at the ground, obviously flattered. Bellatrix huffed and said, "Well, that's fine then—I'll take the guest room if you're so in love with the idea of not changing a thing." Ted jumped to attention and made a big show of directing Bellatrix upstairs. Narcissa looked at Andromeda expectantly.

"It seems our dear older sister has taken the only available bedroom for herself. Shall I be sleeping with you and Ted then?" Hermione blushed beet red at this, but Andromeda just laughed and she realized it was a joke. Narcissa, the ice queen, had just made a joke.

"Since Tonks is out, you can take her bed. She probably won't be back until tomorrow afternoon anyway."

"It must be so hard, to let your child go out into the world like that. Not knowing…" Narcissa trailed off empathetically. Andromeda only offered a half-smile in response.

"Very well, then. Show me to my room?" Narcissa asked.

"Hermione, would you be a dear?" Andromeda asked instead. Turning to her sister, she

said, "You'll be sharing the room with Hermione."

"You and Nymph—Tonks share a room? Even though there is a guest bedroom?" Narcissa asked, puzzled.

"Yes. We, um, tried separate rooms for a while but we kept ending up sleeping over in each other's room. It just made sense. Practically speaking."

"I see. Well then, Miss Granger. After you." Hermione wondered at the sudden shift in the woman into her former, formal self. She led them up to the bedroom without another word. Once inside, Hermione heard Narcissa close the door. And then lock it. She turned around to look at her and was surprised to find the witch standing so close.

"Ah..um..your bed is on the…on the right" Hermione sputtered. Narcissa glanced at the bed.

"The one with the badger bedspread?"

"Yes. That's the one." They shared an odd moment of peaceful silence, standing perhaps a little too close. Hermione could smell the fruity scent of the elvish wine on Narcissa's breath. Then, as is she had reached some conclusion, Narcissa shook her head and headed for her bed. She sat on it, prim and proper, and began to unbutton her blouse. Hermione hastily averted her eyes and began to dress for bed as well.

"I suppose you wish it were my sister here, instead of me," Narcissa remarked casually. Hermione turned around from where she was struggling to pull her jumper off, ready to deny this. Unfortunately, her jumper refused to cooperate and her arms and half her head were stuck, while the rest of her torso was bare save for a thin black bra. She felt her cheeks grow warm—she had just flashed Draco Malfoy's mum. Her embarrassment only increased when she heard the click of heels approaching her. A tug, and the blasted jumper was off. Hermione stood topless in front of Narcissa, who had also removed her blouse.

"That's alright, though. Bella always needed to learn to share, anyway," Narcissa continued, "There's no need to deny it, dear. I see the way you look at her." She took a few steps back, as if appraising the young witch. Hermione felt the need to cover herself with her arms, but she didn't. She didn't want to think about why.

"Oh you brave little lion," she said, stalking towards her as if she were a prize to be won, " 'You confuse yourself for a wave, but you are the entire ocean.'" Hermione had no idea what the older witch was talking about. She turned her head so that she was not on the receiving end of a look which she did not— _could not_ understand.

"What is it with you Black sisters," she said, a rosy flush coloring her cheeks and neck, "that makes you so damn romantic?" The older witch smiled slowly, a sparkle in her eyes.

"It's simple, really," she leaned down and brushed Hermione's hair back, so that the side of the younger witch's neck was exposed, "we see a pretty, young girl," Hermione could feel the puffs of hot air against her neck, "and we just _have_ to make her blush."

"W-well, you've succeeded" Hermione replied a little breathlessly.

"'And I will continue to succeed where others have failed'" the older witch said, much in the same strange cadence as before, as if she were quoting something. Bringing both hands to Hermione's face, she gently cupped the girl's cheeks.

"'I will conquer you,'" Narcissa's eyes danced with a spark of mischief, her breath puffing over Hermione's lips, "'I will let myself be conquered by you.'" Hermione felt herself close her eyes, but she she didn't realize it herself. She could see her, still, behind her closed eyelids. A scorching, cool beauty in impractical heels.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," Bellatrix said, barging into the room the expression on her face decidedly _not_ contrite. It was rather deadly, the way she looked at her sister in proximity to the girl she—but not that, not now.

"I thought I locked that" said Narcissa, unperturbed. She didn't take her hands or her eyes of Hermione. Hermione, on the other hand, scrambled to cover herself with her discarded jumper.

"You did. I unlocked it" Bellatrix grit out from her locked jaw.

"Would you mind closing it and locking it again? We were kind of in the middle of something…"

"We weren't!" Hermione denied, "She was just helping me..my jumper got stuck…" Bellatrix looked at Hermione for a long moment.

"I came here to tell you something I just realized…but it can wait, apparently." Hermione's heart sunk at the tone. She sounded…hurt? Before she could reply, Bellatrix turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Well then, goodnight Hermione" Narcissa said, letting go of her and walking to her bed. Hermione stood there, dumbstruck at this rapid turn of events.

"Don't just stand there dear. As much as I love the view, you'll catch a cold" Narcissa said from underneath her covers. Hermione shivered, not at the cold but at her words. She quickly threw on her pajamas and hastily undid her bra beneath her shirt before diving under the covers. She fell asleep tipsy, turned on, and very, very confused.


	6. Testing a Theory

"I was only trying to help, Bella" said Narcissa.

"How is sexually harassing my student _helping_ me!?" screamed Bellatrix. She was in one of her fits of anger that Narcissa hadn't seen in quite some time. She had been all morning, since Narcissa woke up and came to the guest room to explain herself to her sister. She studied her older sister for a moment, her breath coming in short, fast heaves, nostrils flaring.

"I made you show your hand," she replied, simply. When it became clear that she had no intention of explaining further, Bellatrix huffed and sat down heavily on the armchair.

"What does that even mean?"

"I know you, Bella. If you were left to your own devices, you would just pine after the girl until she graduates, then you would admire her from afar as she slowly but surely comes to be the change this world needs. I can see how you look at her, and how you wish you didn't feel this way for a student. But Bella, if you don't make your feelings clear soon, then she's going to take that as a sign of disinterest. Even contempt."

"I could _never…._ she's already so important to me." Bellatrix finally admitted, apparently giving up the ruse that she had no feelings for the girl, "But Cissa, she's only sixteen. I have to wait. I'll wait for her, for as long as I have to."

"I'm not telling you to go after her right this second," Bellatrix raised her eyebrows at this, and Narcissa conceded, "okay, I _was_ going to convince you to do that. But since you're so clearly attached to your lofty ideals of 'honor' and 'patience', I am forced to persuade you to be patiently impatient."

"You're going to have to explain that to me."

"Show interest, but don't scare her. The girl can't even be in a room alone with me after my little stunt," Bellatrix glowered at the memory of her sister and Hermione in the room, "Remember, I did that for _you._ You should have seen her this morning. She was wondering about how jealous you looked. She felt bad, but also happy."

"She likes to see me suffer?" Bellatrix asked miserably.

"No, she likes to see you _care_." Bellatrix pondered this for a moment.

"Thank you Cissa. But, in the future, refrain from reading her thoughts again. Also, if you

ever touch her without her consent…" she trailed off, but the threat was clear.

"She only went along with it because she wanted it to be you" Narcissa replied. This wasn't enough for Bellatrix, who still glowered at her.

"Okay, you have my word. On my honor, I will not intrude on her mind, or touch her without her explicit content." Bellatrix nodded.

"I have to admit, though, the girl has quite the—" before she could finish, Bellatrix wordlessly muted her sister and threatened,

"Unless the next word out of your mouth was going to be 'brain', 'mind', 'intellect', or some such synonym, I suggest you refrain from speaking." Rubbing her throat and sighing, Narcissa acquiesced.

"Well then," said the youngest Black, "I believe Ted promised us eggs in a basket. Do you remember when Kreacher used to make those for us?" Despite how irate she was still at her sister, Bellatrix smiled at the memory.

"I have to speak to Hermione first. What I realized last night…it could change everything."

"Can't it wait until after breakfast? I'm famished."

"No, Cissa. It's urgent."

"Then why didn't you tell her last night?"

"Because she was otherwise occupied!"

"Oh, are you still mad about that?"

"It's literally been less than eight hours and forty three minutes."

"Oh dear. You're obsessed."

"You know what—" whatever else she was going to say died in her throat when Hermione timidly knocked three times then asked to come in. The sisters looked at each other, then at the door. Narcissa gave her sister a rare smile and a pat on the back for encouragement, then went to go open the door. Hermione was startled when she saw her.

"Oh! Miss Malfoy, I thought you were downstairs. Good— ah, good morning. I trust you slept well…"

"Oh I had such wonderful dreams," she replied suggestively. Behind her, Bellatrix loudly cleared her throat. "Well, I believe you two have something to discuss," she said significantly, looking from Hermione to Bellatrix. Without another word, Narcissa stepped around Hermione and left the two witches alone.

"Professor…" Hermione started to say. Bellatrix stopped her immediately.

"Remember, Bellatrix when we're not at school."

"Right, Bellatrix. I just… I just want to apologize for last night. I never—"

"Hermione, there is nothing you need to apologize for." Bellatrix noticed that the girl's face fell when she said this. She clarified, "You, specifically, have nothing to apologize for. My sister, on the other hand. Well, she's a grown woman with a husband and child who made a move on a young, inebriated girl. She is the one who needs to apologize. To you."

"We were all slightly incapacitated." Hermione tried to protest. Bellatrix was having none of it.

"No. Absolutely not. Besides, my sister has a high tolerance for elvish wine. There is no excuse." Hermione was quiet for a moment.

"Then why did she…?" Bellatrix's heart contracted at the confused expression on the girl's face.

"You can ask her yourself, after she apologizes to you."

"Right. I will. Do that, I mean. Are you…are you sure you're not mad?"

"I am furious with my sister. But I don't think that's what you meant, is it? No, Hermione,

I'm not mad at you."

"But I didn't stop it. I mean, she was saying such romantic things and she's so beautiful, for a moment I thought she was—" apparently remembering who she was speaking to, Hermione stopped abruptly and blushed. Bellatrix tried to hide the conflicting feelings of amusement and jealousy. _So Cissy was right about that_. She couldn't help herself, she had to

ask.

"What, in particular, did she say to you?" The girl blushed again. She did that a lot when she asked her questions, looked at her, or was even in the same room as her. The thought made her feel reckless and elated.

"Something about the waves, the ocean, being conquered…you know, stuff like that." Hermione said, clearly extremely embarrassed to be discussing this with her professor, as well as the sister of the woman in question. Something clicked in Bellatrix's brain.

"Was it something like, 'You confuse yourself for a wave, but you are the entire ocean'?"

"Yes! And.."

"And, 'I will conquer you. I will let myself be conquered by you'?"

"How did you know that?" There was the familiar glimmer of curiosity in Hermione's eyes. Bellatrix hadn't realized how much she missed that look.

"I'm afraid my sister isn't very original. Those are lines from my poems—"

"You write poetry?" Hermione couldn't help interrupting.

"I wrote poetry," Bellatrix corrected, "When I was young and full of angst."

"So why would she…"

"Again, I direct you to my sister, who is the only one who knows her motives." Bellatrix felt a little bad about dodging Hermione's questions. She tried to rationalize it to herself by telling herself, _I really don't understand why Cissy does what she does. It's not technically lying. I couldn't lie to this girl if I tried._

"Right. Well then. Last night, you said there was something you realized?" Hermione sounded somewhat hopeful.

"Yes. About your parents." Hermione's face fell briefly, imperceptibly to someone who didn't spend hours of their day daydreaming of that face. But Bellatrix saw it, and made a note of it. _Odd._ "I think there is a way for me to…talk around this _fidelius_ charm. I think we should visit Chatsworth." Hermione started to object, as she predicted. Bellatrix countered quickly.

"I want to test a theory." That got the desired effect. Hermione couldn't say no to a theory, much less testing it.

"But my parents…" Hermione trailed off worriedly.

"We'll glamour ourselves. I promise you, this will shed some light on the situation." Bellatrix spoke with such confidence Hermione found herself nodding in agreement before he mouth could object.

"Alright. Then it's decided. We'll go after breakfast."

"So soon?" Hermione asked

"We can't sit on this information, Hermione. Remember, this is all connected." Hermione looked thoughtfully at a corner of the room, contemplating this. She chewed the corner of her bottom lip, as she usually did when something was troubling her. Just another thing Bellatrix couldn't help but notice about her.

"What is worrying you, Hermione?" Maybe it was the the way she looked at her, or the way she said her name, but Hermione looked up when Bellatrix spoke and walked toward her, as if about to embrace her. She stopped herself short and looked around at anything but the older witch's face. She was close enough that Bellatrix could reach over from where she sitting on the arm chair and place her had on Hermione's bicep. Hermione's hand immediately covered her hand with her own.

"I just…I haven't been home in years. I've pushed it from my mind for so long. The thought that this whole time, my parents have been under some malevolent influence. I feel like a failure."

"Hermione. _Hermione._ Look at me." She waited until the girl finally brought her eyes to her own, "You were _eleven_ years old. A child. What could you have possibly done? If there is anyone to blame, it's me. Seven years on the field, and what do I have to show for it? A loose theory, something so flimsy and comical…"

"A theory, no matter how ridiculous, is necessary for progress. We'll either prove it or disprove. Either way, we'll learn something about the world."

"What book did you lift that from?" asked Bellatrix with a sardonic smile teasing her lips.

"It was a documentary, actually."

"A what?" Hermione smiled at her confusion and rolled her eyes.

"It would be easier to show you than to tell you. Maybe I will someday." Bellatrix couldn't be sure, but she _thought_ she could detect a hint of flirtatiousness in the offer. Maybe she was just hearing what she wanted to hear. _For the love of Merlin_ she thought to herself angrily, _she's barely old enough to drink. She's not flirting with a woman over twice her age._

"Um, well then…I guess…" Bellatrix was uncharacteristically clumsy with her words all of a sudden. The girl really could throw her off with such simple gestures.

"Yes!" said Hermione, picking up on Bellatrix's implication. Not for the first time, Bellatrix wondered if the girl was secretly a legilimens. "Ted is so excited to cook for new people. He loves new opinions."

"Isn't he just a ray of sunshine," Bellatrix deadpanned.

"He really is," Hermione answered sincerely. She smiled down at Bellatrix, and suddenly Bellatrix remembered that her hand was still on Hermione's bicep, that she was sitting down while Hermione stood slightly to the left of her. She sprung up suddenly, retracting her hand. Immediately, her hand missed the warmth. To recover some of it, she hovered her hand against Hermione's lower back, gesturing to the door with her other hand.

"After you, Hermione."

The two witches made their way downstairs to the kitchen, both wondering about how they would make it through a whole day alone with each other. They walked close enough to feel each other's warmth, but not close enough that they were touching. Hermione chanced a glance up at Bellatrix on their way, taking in her sharp jawline and even sharper cheekbones. Her nose cut a proud profile, her eyelashes lashes curled outward, so long that they almost touched her eyebrows. As if aware she was being studied, Bellatrix glanced down and Hermione looked quickly away. She missed the smile that spread across the older witch's face.

The kitchen was a mess. Ofie and Auxley scrambled to keep up with Ted's enthusiastic ideas ("what if instead of regular bread, we use _croissants._ That we make _from scratch_!"). Andromeda wasn't down yet, it was barely ten in the morning. Narcissa stood off to one side, calm sipping her tea and eyeing the scene with mild amusement. When she saw Bellatrix and Hermione, and noticed how close they were standing, how they looked at her, a triumphant smile graced her calm features. It was wiped off when Bellatrix sent a glare in her direction. _Oh Merlin, she's still upset?_ Setting down her cup, she made her way to the duo.

"Hermione, I need to speak to you in private." Bellatrix looked at Hermione, trying to ascertain if the girl was comfortable with that. Hermione gave her a small smile and a nod, so she made her way farther in to the kitchen, where she was far enough away to not hear, but close enough to keep them in sight. Narcissa led Hermione a little away to the kitchen nook by the pantry.

"About last night—I'm afraid I was very drunk and—"

"Bellatrix said you had a high tolerance to elvish wine," Hermione interrupted. Clearly, this girl wasn't going to make it easy for her,

"Did she now? Hmm, alright then. I see." She considered her next move. Suddenly, she leaned in and whispered, "Did my dear sister seem…different to you today?"

"What do you mean?" The girl asked, clearly trying her best to not look flustered at the proximity.

"I mean, since last night, when she walked in on what she thought was me making a move an advance on you, has she become…softer? Easier to read, somewhat?" Hermione thought about this, and a curious expression came over the young witch's face.

"When you say 'what she thought'…"

"Dear, you're the brightest witch of your age, surely you can put two and two together?"

"By two and two, you mean a woman old enough to be my mother making a move on me and my professor, also old enough to be my mother, being somewhat more open with her feelings, are supposed to equate to something?"

"Careful now," warned Narcissa, "I may be old enough to be your mother, but I don't appreciate the reminder."

"Quite frankly ma'am, I…I don't care." Hermione stated as confidently as she could.

"Ah, there's that famous Gryffindor courage. Tell me dear, how long have you pined after my sister?" Hermione stared at the ground, furious at her obvious feelings.

"I'll take that as a 'since the moment I met her'", Narcissa continued, "and when did she ever hint at the possibility of reciprocation?"

"She's my professor, that's wildly inappropriate."

"Answer the question, girl." Hermione's confidence wavered, and she admitted, quietly,

"Never."

"You mean, 'never, before this morning'" she corrected. Hermione regarded Narcissa for a moment. She was so unlike her other sisters, but also similar where it counted. There was none of the unruly curls, the dark features, but all of the confidence in oneself, and those cheekbones.

"Did…she say something to you?"

"Do you really think I'd tell you if she did?"

"You Black sisters are impossible."

"We look after each other. Even if it's unasked for." After a moment, Narcissa continued

in a softer voice, "For what it's worth, I am genuinely sorry for coming on to you so suddenly. I heard my sister approaching, and knew I only had a small window of opportunity."

"Why did you lock the door as soon as we entered?"

"Nothing escapes you, does it? Call it witch's intuition, but I knew my sister would come barging in at some point. She's not the type to let go of a train of thought. Especially when it concerns someone she cares about—"

"She cares about me?" interrupted Hermione, too eager to hear the answer to apologize for cutting off the older witch. Narcissa sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if imploring the skylight to illuminate the feelings of these two bright, clueless witches.

"You're a bright girl, Hermione. You'll figure it out." And with that, Narcissa left Hermione in the nook. Hermione gazed out the window at the front yard. It was a beautiful summer day, she'd love to spend reading in the hammock tied between the two elm trees on the far left of the yard. Instead, she would be embarking on an adventure with Bellatrix Black, to the one place she vowed to never return.


	7. Field Trip

A/N: _You can skip this note if you'd rather get on with the story, but I thought I'd explain the two year gap in updating this. There's no good excuse, I just got discouraged by a few not-so-friendly messages. It made me doubt myself. But I would notice a few nicer comments here and there, and that helped me come back to this story. It's one I'm really keen on telling, so thank you. I've gone back and edited the previous chapters. Not much has changed in terms of plot. Fixed a ton of grammar/syntax errors (oops)._

 _Also, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I wrote a bunch of smut for this story to help me figure out where this is going. I'm not sure it'll end up making it in, but it was a helpful exercise. If it doesn't fit organically in later chapters, I'll add them as a collection of loosely related one-shots._

 _tl:dr - i'm back_

* * *

Andromeda trotted down the stairs like she usually did when Tonks was training; heavily, like part of her soul had gone with her daughter. She brightened up marginally when she spotted Ted flurrying around in the kitchen, and even more when she caught sight of Hermione. Her little lion was in an animated discussion with Ofie and Auxley. Ofie was in the middle of a rejoinder that involved syllables too complex for Andromeda to even think about processing that early in the day, while Auxley was setting the table and nodding to Ofie's points.

This was by no means a rare occurrence, as there was always _something_ Hermione could argue for hours about. However, it was the presence of her sisters that gave her pause, making her hover by the door to the kitchen and observe the scene in front of her for a moment. Narcissa and Bellatrix seemed to be wrapped up in Hermione's light, engrossed in her vibrant display of passion with similar looks of…admiration? adoration? It was too early to tell, but it was certainly clear that her sisters were listening to every word that came out of Hermione's mouth.

As she continued to watch her family interact from afar, Andromeda felt a nameless apprehension rise up in the back of her mind. It would be easy to dismiss the admiring gaze her sisters were giving Hermione as harmless, except that Bellatrix seemed a bit too invested in every little twitch on Hermione's face.

"It's rude to stare, mum," Tonk's voice broke Andromeda from her train of thought. Surprise took hold of the older which, who reacted quickly by turning around and flinging her arms out. Tonks dutifully endured the contracted hug despite the obvious exhaustion in her frame. The older witch released her daughter after a moment, quickly giving her a once-over.

"You look rough, nugget," Andromeda observed, her voice laced with a mother's worry and a healthy dose of empathy.

"Thanks," Tonks said flatly, the small upturned corners of her mouth betraying her amusement. Before her mother could reply, Tonks jutted her chin toward the scene in the kitchen that Andromeda was observing before.

"Don't think I'm the one you should be keeping your eye out on, though."

At the knowing tone of her usually light-hearted daughter, Andromeda stood a little straighter and leaned in to ask, "What do you mean? Is something going on?"

"Not yet."

Andromeda, now fully alert and with a creeping sense of unease, looked back into the kitchen and could not help but see the scene in a slightly different light. Both her sisters were still staring at Hermione, her precious little cub, with an intensity that seemed a little too attentive. Narcissa, her more reserved younger sister, looked at Hermione with a knowing smirk and a playful gaze. Andromeda furrowed her brow and tilted her head, she really didn't know what was going on there. That is, until she saw Narcissa turn to look instead at Bellatrix. It was then that Andromeda began to grasp what was transpiring.

The oldest Black sister was sitting, chin in hand, with an awe-inspired twinkle in her eye. Andromeda has seen her older sister smitten before, yes, but this was different somehow—she could tell just by looking at her that Bellatrix was entirely unaware of herself, which was rare for a witch who lived almost entirely in her own head.

Narcissa tilted her head and made eye contact with Andromeda from across the kitchen. As if sensing that her sister was beginning to understand what was transpiring, she looked back and forth quickly between Hermione and Bellatrix and then raised her eyebrow suggestively.

Andromeda looked back to Hermione, now emphasizing her points to Ofie with gestures and gesticulations. Her heart seemed to squeeze itself, as it always did when Hermione did something particularly adorable, which she almost always did. Andromeda resolved to put a stop to whatever was going on, immediately, to protect her cub. Just as she had made up her mind to talk to her sisters, Hermione suddenly swiveled and caught Bellatrix's eyes. A look flashed across her face for a moment before being replaced with a more polite, shy smile.

Andromeda knew that look. She had seen, lived it, experienced being on both ends of it— the adoring look of an admirer. Hermione blushed and turned back to respond to something Auxley said, and if not for that that minuscule moment between the witches, Andromeda would not have noticed the slight hitch in her voice as she did so.

This was going to be…tricky.

.

.

.

.

Breakfast was an interesting affair. Ofie and Auxley took their breakfast to the sunlit patio on account of the limited space in the breakfast nook. Hermione watched them go with a pout; she hadn't truly gotten anywhere in their debate. She had been distracted while trying to formulate her closing argument—and the reason was sitting right next to her. She wanted to sneak another glance at older witch, but she had already been caught once today. Hermione felt her cheeks warm just thinking about that split second of eye contact—Bellatrix had to have already been looking at her for some time. The thought made her smile.

"Care to clue us in on the joke, 'Mione?" Narcissa asked suddenly, breaking Hermione's daydream.

Finding herself as the center of several inquisitive stares, Hermione floundered for a millisecond before quickly recovering.

"I was just remembering how absolutely tossed you all got last night," she said.

Ted, mid-sip of his coveted breakfast tea, snorted into his cup. Narcissa and Tonks, sitting on either side of him were caught in the unfortunate splash radius.

"Oi, sounds like I missed out on some action," said Tonks with a smirk, carelessly wiping the liquid from the side of her face. Narcissa, on the other hand, primly dabbed at her face with a napkin, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Yes, we definitely saw some action last night," Narcissa said.

Hermione immediately took great interest in the food on her plate and cutting everything into neat squares. She couldn't tell if Narcissa meant for the innuendo, but she couldn't help recalling the feeling, however brief, of their lips meeting in the dark. She was sure that her face was approaching an unsettling shade of red, and honestly, she was over the whole thing.

"Hermione and your aunt Bella may even see some more of it today," continue Narcissa, nonplussed as she resumed buttering her toast. Tonks wrinkled her brow and looked to Hermione for explanation.

"She's referring to our field trip today," Hermione supplied.

"Field trip? Where? Why?" Tonks asked in quick succession.

Hermione explained everything that had transpired that night - well, not _everything_. Hermione wasn't sure how Tonks would take hearing that her recently estranged aunt had put the moves on her. For the most part, everyone else at the table remained quiet while Hermione unpacked the reason for last night's sudden reunion. When she got to the part about her parents, she felt her throat close up, as if she, like Bellatrix, were also bound by _fidelius_. Andromeda reached over and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, squeezing slightly before relaxing her grip. On the other side of Hermione, Bellatrix hesitantly reached out and placed her hand on her forearm. Hermione powered through and explained the fact-finding mission to Tonks, who watched this all unfold with an uncharacteristic level of focus.

"I have to say, 'Mione, this is spectacularly…" Tonks drifted off, searching for the right word. Hermione was expecting a synonym along the lines of brave, but instead, she got, "bloody mental."

"Thanks, I know its a risk worth-wait, what?" Hermione began and the stopped herself as she registered what Tonks had actually said.

"Its bloody stupid and I can't believe no one is trying to stop you. Can't you all see how dangerous this is? Returning to that place?" Tonks lefther question open-ended and looked around the table, daring anyone to reply.

"This is actually the first I'm hearing of it," Andromeda said, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

"I just suggested it this morning," said Bellatrix, "I ran it by Cissy beforehand."

"And you didn't think to run it by Hermione's guardians?" Ted spoke up, surprising his in-laws with the unusual levity of his tone. "I understand your heart is in the right place, but perhaps this is something we should discuss, as a family, before any decisions are made."

"There's no need for a discussion! This is mad!" Tonks erupted, her hair bursting into a flaming violet shade of messy curls.

"T," Hermione started, ignoring the comments of the occupants, "I get that you're looking out for me, but I don't think 'dangerous' is a word I'd use to describe my hometown. Honestly, I'm surprised at your reaction- you, of all people should understand what this means to me."

"Hermione," Tonks began, softer this time, "I'm telling you this precisely _because_ I understand what this means - you're not going to like what you find there. It's different than the Chatsworth you remember. Even the _air_ there is different."

"I'm not a frightened little first year anymore. I don't need you to protect me," Hermione said hotly, feeling tears prick the corners of her vision. She hated that her body though tears were an appropriate accessory for anger. Still, she was proud of the way her voice did not crack, only wavering on the last syllable.

Hermione and Tonks looked at each other from opposite ends of the breakfast table. The room was quiet, tense. Ted cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the early morning spectacle. All three Black sisters were assessing the situation in their own way. Bellatrix was watching Tonks carefully, taking note of how the auror-in-training was gripping her fork in her right hand so tightly that her knuckles were going white. She also saw the bags underneath the young witch's eyes, earned no doubt by countless nights of randomly scheduled training.

Narcissa watched Hermione, and the way she tilted her head back. Ostensibly, she wanted to appear as if she were haughtily regarding the other witch. But Narcissa knew from experience that the move was a rouse, a way of discretely willing the tears at the corners of her eyes to go back, or at least not to fall.

Andromeda looked back and forth at both of the young witches and felt a sense of déjà vu. As the middle child, she was often caught between rowes - Merlin knows she played intermediary between her polar opposite sisters more than every now and again. It was precisely why she knew that this fight wasn't so much a disagreement as it was a poor reaction to fear. Tonks, her often flippant eldest child, took very few things in life seriously. Being Hermione's protector, although a recent development, was one of them. And now, she was feeling helpless as Hermione announced her plans to return to a place that had been a source of pain for years. The worst kind of pain - the emotional kind, one couldn't be _reducto_ -d away.

Hermione, on the other hand, wanted Tonks to be proud of her. After all, it wasn't everyday that she put her books down and faced whatever was plaguing her. Though she knew her cub to be brave, she also knew that it took a special kind of motivation for her to look into the unknown, as she was about to. In short, Andromeda knew, having played the part of both big and little sister, how the roles were different, and how each wanted to be seen by the other.

Andromeda continued to watch as the girls seemed to bite their tongues from lashing out further, obviously confused as to why the other was reacting the way they were. Hermione seemed to come to some conclusion in her head, as she nodded to herself and squared her shoulders.

"I'm going."

"Hermione-"

Ignoring the other girl, Hermione turned to Bellatrix and asked her, "Are you ready?"

Bellatrix looked at Hermione carefully, placing her tea cup back in its saucer before replying evenly, "Whenever you are."

"I'm ready now. Let's not waste daylight." Hermione pushed her plate away and stood from the table. "Please enjoy the rest of your meal. I hope you all have a lovely day."

Andromeda scoffed from where she was seated and stood up too, pulling her into a tight hug. "None of that polite nonsense, Hermione. We're a family, we don't do pleasantries. Be safe, come back at the first sight of trouble, send if you need me."

Upon being released from the matriarch's hold, Hermione looked around the table, locking eyes with Ted, who looked like he wanted to say something. It was Tonks who put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. Ted settled for a wry smile that didn't meet his eyes, and a short nod.

Narcissa sipped her tea, eyeing the young witch cooly as she considered her words. She lifted a finely arched brow and said, "You two don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Cissy, that's horrible advice. You have shit instincts," Bellatrix said dryly as she rose to stand beside Hermione. The older witch extended her hand to Hermione and explained, "I'll apparate us to the edge of the wizarding part of Chatsworth."

Nodding, Hermione reached out and grasped Bellatrix's hand in her own, preparing herself for the twisting feeling in her gut. Her eyes remained shut, feet firmly on the ground as everything shifted and pulled and stretched.

Bellatrix cleared her throat. Hermione opened her eyes and took in the sights and sounds of the hidden wizarding world, just a few miles away from her childhood home. A young boy zipped down the street chasing a practice snitch. The bustling foot traffic of wizards and witches did not seem to deter him in his quest. Hermione watched him ride off until the road turned in the distance. To think that such a place existed the entire time, unbeknownst to her as she grew up...she shook her head to stop herself from traveling down that mental path. It would do her no good.

Instead, she looked at Bellatrix, drinking in her dark robes which draped her body just right, her hair pinned up save for some strands which framed her face. Her dark eyes gleamed as a smirk formed on her face, pointedly looking down at their hands. Which were still joined. Or rather, which Hermione still had not let go of.

Mortified, Hermione dropped the older witch's hand and turned her face to hide the blush she knew would be incoming. She heard Bellatrix's rich, throaty chuckle from beside her and knew, without having to look at the dark-haired witch, that she was smiling as she suggested, "Let's stock up on a few supplies before we head out. We'll need to cast a glamour, and bring some back-up charms just in case."

Hermione nodded, slowly turning back to look at Bellatrix again. She found the older witch still looking at her with an inexplicable expression, somewhere between amused and concerned. It dawned on Hermione just then that she was spending the day with her crush. Her inappropriate crush. Whom she couldn't stop blushing and making a fool of herself around. Hermione sighed, resigning herself to the fact that the day, which had seen her first real fight with her best friend, was bound to be awful.


End file.
